Kross stood with his hands in his trouser pockets watching the orderlies unload the lorries. The line of his usually impeccable suit was for once distorted.
He didn't mind.
No one to impress here, he'd even loosened his tie.
The bruises on his face had healed nicely and his ribs were nearly mended. He didn't walk with a limp anymore. He casually strode around taking in the spectacle. His men were busy unloading. Five trucks were backed into all the building's loading bays and one by one they were being emptied of their human cargo. More lorries waited outside.
Some had been specially rigged with mezzanine levels in their containers to allow for two-storey storage. The Colorado green site was filling up fast. They were now taking stock from all the centres along the west coast, and as more and more cities came online traffic would only increase.
Kross had already prepared by organising fifty temporary cabins to act as holding areas while the second warehouse was built onsite. Each cabin would take around twenty patients, and when they filled up they'd put up the tents. He needed to keep the build running around the clock. It was difficult given how remote the location was, but being a disused army base it at least had decent transportation routes and even a small airfield that Kross would expand in time to be able to handle air freight.
He was feeling contented. His star had risen at Mesmerium and he was now the CEO of FLS Medical. The shroud of respectability that Sinclair had set up to mask this endeavour. He fingered the key fob to his new car in his pocket. He loved running his fingers over the Aston Martin logo embossed into it.
It aroused him.
Yes, things were good for Dorian Kross, but he still felt a cloud lingering over his success. He walked into the main warehouse. Inside, the inventory was neatly parked in numbered bays that were organized in alphabetical rows. In each bay, the patient had a VR headset, oxygen mask, and life support machine plugged into cables hanging from overhead conduits. Trolleys no longer needed to carry individual O2 tanks.
Kross strode casually amongst the stockpile. There must have been at least three thousand people on this level, and there was one more floor. He was meandering slowly, but he had a destination in mind.
He was towards the far end of the warehouse now, strolling around some of the facility's first patients. He was practically alone, too far to hear the hubbub of the orderlies taking the latest batch of deliveries to their pods.
It was quiet, almost silent.
Bay 34, Row CC.
Kross gripped the rail at the foot of the trolley and pondered over the occupant. He had mixed emotions looking down at his old friend. He wasn't sure if he'd done right by him or not. He watched his chest rise and fall gently in a tranquil rhythm. He seemed at peace, at least.
He picked up the tablet that was hooked onto the rail and swiped his security card along the reader on the side. He navigated through some screens until he found the setting he was looking for. He ticked a few checkboxes and submitted the changes.
He then made sure Brendon's status had been changed to "Out of Inventory."